


fat chance

by orphan_account



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-18
Updated: 2012-07-18
Packaged: 2017-11-10 05:35:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/462750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>gerard isnt comfortable in his own skin</p>
            </blockquote>





	fat chance

“If I get you shitfaced enough will you let me see you naked?”

 

“Fat chance.”

 

Gerard folded his arms in front of him against the cool, sticky bar and sighed. His hair clung to both of his full cheeks, slick with grease and sweat.

 

“Shirtless?”

 

“I don't know why you're so fixated on that. You got a fetish for lardasses, Frankie?”

 

“Nope,” Frank said slowly, resting his chin in a cupped hand. “I bet you've got nothing to be ashamed of.”

 

Smiling, Frank lifted his glass to his lips, watching the slumped-over Gerard curious eyes. He shifted in his seat slightly to prompt the other man into speaking again.

 

“There's a whole lot,” Gerard murmured, jerking the hem of his jacket closer to his hips as if just the thought of his lovehandles made them any more apparent than they already were. “A whole lot to be ashamed of. I'm a beached whale who looks like an 8 year old girl.”

 

“Bullshit.”

 

“A fat Dracula.”

 

“Gerard, knock it off.”

 

On the stool beside him, Frank shook his head teasingly. “For what it's worth, I think you look great.”

 

“Stop making fun of me.”

 

“I'm not. Come on, everyone has seen their friends naked at least once.”

 

Gerard tensed up at that, drawing his shoulders closer to the sides of his face.

 

“That's not true.”

 

“Well, what about Pete and Mikey? I bet Mikeyway has seen Pete's junk plenty of ti-”

 

“Shut your mouth! Is that what you think about? Jesus,” Gerard sighed. “Listen, I'm just not, I'm not, like-” Taking a deep breath, he paused. “ I'm not comfortable or whatever with that.”

 

“But why?” Frank whined, causing the older man to let out another pained sigh.

 

“Because I'm fat, that's why. Nobody wants to see a doughy fatass like me.”

 

“Gee-”

 

“Can we just drop it? Please? I wanna go home.”

 

\- - -

 

Frank, being the designated driver for the two that night, opened the passenger side door and gently ushered Gerard inside. Stumbling, the older man plopped down into the seat and clumsily buckled his seatbelt.

 

“I'm not even that drunk,” he protested, leaning his head back against the seat. “I could'a, I could'a drove.”

 

“Don't care. You still had more to drink than me.”

 

As Frank clambered into the driver's seat, Gerard folded his arms across his chest and pouted silently. I light, rosy blush tinted his cheeks, making it rather easy to tell that he had been drinking.

 

He didn't speak the entire car ride back to his dingy apartment. The only noise between the two had been the radio that Frank had cranked up as high as it could go to drown out the awkward, childish silence. Gerard drummed his chubby fingers along the windowsill to the beat of the music while staring out at the road.

 

After a few minutes, they had eventually pulled into the parking lot of Gerard's apartment building.

 

“Hey, uh, Gee? I know you're pissed or whatever but, like-”

 

“What?”

 

“Can I spend the night tonight?”

 

Gerard glanced over at him suspiciously and cranked open the car door, stepping out and leaning in through the open window to shake his head.

 

“I'm not that drunk.”

 

“I'm serious.”

 

“So am I.”

 

“Please?”

 

Sighing, Gerard withdrew his face back from the car and motioned Frank to follow him to the main doors of the building.

 

\- - -

 

“Jesus Christ, what a mess,” Frank murmured, stepping over an empty Chinese take-out box. Ahead of him, Gerard apologized feebly and flicked on the light switch, giving his friend an even better view of the state of disrepair his filthy studio apartment had been left in.

 

Comic books littered the ground in even greater quantities than the rumpled balls of snotty toilet paper and candy wrappers, and a strange, indescribable scent wafted up from the spilled wastebasket kicked over beside Gerard's bed. Bed, of course, is a term used to refer to the stained mattress he had thrown down, with a scummy comforter haphazardly strewn across it.

 

“If you don't like it, you're more than welcome to leave.”

 

“N-no, I'm not saying that. I mean, I am, but-”

 

Gerard glanced at him over his shoulder and rolled his eyes before pulling out the couches cushions.

 

“Shut up for a minute and help me pull out your bed,” he instructed, motioning for Frank to join him.

 

“I thought that, well,” Frank stepped over to help him, reaching forward and yanking out the rickety futon. “I didn't know you had more than one bed.”

 

“What, did you think there was gonna be enough room for the two of us?” Gerard replied, not looking up from the cushions he had tossed onto the futon. “On that bed? Oh, Frankie. I take up the entire fucking thing.”

 

“But, Gee, I-”

 

“I'm gonna go to bed. I'm not feeling so good,” Gerard said softly before turning on his heels and trudging back to his bed. He flicked off the light switch and kicked off his jeans, taking care to hide his lower half behind the couch to block Frank's view. In his shirt and loose boxers, he flopped down onto the mattress and pulled the covers over his head. “'Night, Frankie.”

 

\- - -

 

Frank spent the next few minutes tossing around on the uncomfortable futon, feeling the too-sharp frame poking into his back every other turn. From a few feet away, Gerard's soft snoring could be heard, as well as the rustling sounds of him rolling gently under his blankets. He had fallen asleep fast.

 

“Gee?” Frank whispered tentatively, poking his head over the back of the couch to see if he was sleeping. He whispered again and, after determining he was unconscious, slipped off of the futon and tiptoed to the lump under the comforters that was Gerard.

 

As quietly as he could, he dropped down to his knees and pulled aside the covers, exposing his chest, clad in a loose-fitting black shirt that rose and fell with each breath he took. Frank bit his lip and stared.

 

“Gee,” he said softly, taken aback by how adorable he had looked. His arm was tucked under his head as a makeshift pillow, which pressed into his rosy, pudgy cheek. 

 

Frank reached out his hand and gently tugged up the hem of his shirt, just enough to see the pale overhang of fat that dripped over his drab boxers. It was a stark contrast of creamy white on rumpled black.

 

His fingers trailed up his chest and pulled his shirt up to his neck. Gerard's chest was just as pale as the rest of him but flabbier, his nipples thick and cute against his alabaster, slightly sagging pectorals . His belly was just the right amount of round that Frank delicately grasped a bit of the pudge between his fingers, squeezing and causing Gerard to yelp out in surprise and sit up.

 

“What the hell do you think you're doing?” he gasped, yanking his shirt back down an swatting Frank's hands away.

 

“Well, I, I just-”

 

“I think you need to leave.”

 

Clutching his shirt to his chest, Gerard stared him down coldly. “Please go.”

 

“I don't wanna.”

 

“Go.”

 

“I think you're beautiful.”

 

“Frank, cut it out.”

 

“No, listen to me,” Frank said softly, pressing his palm flat against Gerard's hand. “I think you look perfect.”

 

“You're full of shit. I'm not beautiful,” the other man replied harshly. “I'm not perfect. I'm none of that. You know what I am, Frankie? I'm a fat piece of shit. A fucking pig.”

 

“Gee-”

 

“Do you think women like this? Do you think they want this?” Gerard snapped, lifting up his shirt. “No, they don't. Nobody does, because it's fucking disgusting.”

 

“But, Gee- Gee, I want it.”

 

“What?”

 

“I want it.”

 

Frank lifted his hand and cupped it against Gerard's cheek, smiling sadly. “I know I make fun of you all the time and shit but, like- What I'm trying to say is that I think you're perfect.”

 

“Frankie, stop. It's not funny.”

 

“Nobody's joking, Gerard.”

 

“I don't wanna hear it.”

 

“I'm in love with you.”

 

The older man visibly recoiled in shock, letting his jaw drop slightly. 

 

“You what? I- But, why?”

 

“Do you really think any of this matters to me?” Frank asked, pressing his hand against Gerard's soft belly. “I mean, I'm not saying I don't think it's cute 'cause I do, but what I'm talking about is here.” Gently, Frank slid his hand up to Gerard's chest.

 

“My nasty fuckin' man titties?”

 

“No, dumbass. I mean your heart.”

 

Gerard went silent for a moment, letting his words sink in.

 

“You know,” he said finally, smiling shyly. “That's pretty gay.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah.” 

 

“Gee, listen,” Frank leaned in close, close enough to taste the alcohol on Gerard's breath and smell his sweat. “I can't make you love your body. I understand that. But, okay- I love it, I do. I'm gonna love it no matter what it looks like, because it's your body. Fat, muscle-y, or skinny. I don't give a shit.”

 

“I, Frankie-” Gerard stopped himself to swiftly close the gap between their lips, pressing them together in a clumsy kiss. Frank's lips were chapped, but he could feel them pull into a smile from under his own. “I li- I love you.”

 

“Can I sleep in your bed tonight?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

\- - -

 

Frank snuggled in tight next to him, squirming around under the blankets.

 

“God, your bed fucking reeks.”

 

“I know,” Gerard mumbled, wrapping an arm around Frank's waist and pulling him tight. Their bodies had fit together like spoons against the dirty mattress. “I think I might've spilled some milk around here or something.”

 

“Gross,” Frank whispered half-heartedly. “G'night, Gee.”

 

“Mm, goodnight.”

 

Holding Frank tight against his chest, Gerard closed his eyes.

 

Until that night, neither of the two had ever slept better.


End file.
